The New Yorker recently published an article by Dan Piepenbring bemoaning the establishment of a new Chick-fil-A restaurant in New York City. Dan appears to be a talented writer pining for the good old days when throngs of hypocritical hippies protested outside of the City’s first Chick-fil-A restaurant only to turn around and stuff their faces with chicken and waffle fries when no one was looking (we know what you’re all up to). He affectionately looks back to the time when Mayor Bill de Blasio called for a boycott on Chick-fil-A. Just reading that sentence in his article made me want to eat a chicken sandwich every day for the rest of my life. Alright you got me; I already wanted to do that, but now I actually might.
Dan, like so many progressive writers before him, continues to search for controversy in Chick-fil-A’s Christian message. They are collectively becoming the boy who cried bigot. The owner, brace yourselves for this one, supports the traditional Christian definition of marriage. Oh the horror. Somehow this makes eating at Chick-fil-A an act of bigotry. Never mind the fact that each restaurant boasts more images of cows than crucifixes.
But then, after he exhausts his claims of Christian bigotry, in a piece of writing that is truly astounding, Dan finds fault with Chick-fil-A’s use of cows, despite the fact that they do not serve beef. Just as Christianity does not belong in New York City, fictional cows do not belong in Chick-fil-A’s marketing. “Eat mor chikin” is nothing more than the barbaric rallying cry of the bloodthirsty cows. It is the cow’s schadenfreude, says Dan, purportedly with a straight face. I wonder how long he’s been waiting to squeeze that word into an article.
Dan goes on to point out that despite not being open on Sunday’s, Chick-fil-A is well on its way to becoming the third largest fast food restaurant behind McDonalds and Starbucks. In fact, the average Chick-fil-A restaurant brings in more money than the average Wendy’s and McDonalds combined. Evidently God looks after his chicken stands.
What Dan does not appear to understand is that Chick-fil-A is not merely a fast food restaurant run by Christians; it is God, speaking to us through food. Each bite of a chicken sandwich, each waffle fry slathered in Polynesian sauce confirms two things. One, there is a God, and two, he most certainly loves us. In fact, I’m pretty sure it says somewhere in the Bible that with every nugget eaten, an angel gets its wings.
After reading Dan’s article a few times, I’ll admit I was befuddled. Who in their right mind could possibly be upset by a new Chick-fil-A opening where they live? It doesn’t make sense. I can’t imagine anything bringing more joy to a neighborhood. But then, suddenly, in what must have been divine revelation, I understood Dan’s frustration. He must be a “vegan.” Nothing else could possibly explain his anger at the opening of another one of God’s chicken stands.
The more I thought about it, the simpler it appeared. It is quite obvious actually. Chick-fil-A is so much more than a fast food joint; it is a “vegan’s” worst night mare. It confirms what we have always known deep down in our hearts, that there are no such things as “vegans.” Everyone, man, woman and child, eats Chick-fil-A. No one person has enough will power to resist the crimson call of the Chick-fil-A sign, least of all “vegans.” Anyone who claims not to have eaten Chick-fil-A is a charlatan. I find it easier to believe in the existence of elves than in such a claim.
Ever wondered why vegans feel the need to reveal their dietary preferences within the first minute of a conversation? Perhaps George Costanza can be of some assistance. “Just remember, it’s not a lie, if you believe it.” Vegans have to continuously tell themselves and anyone who will listen that they are vegan because; even “vegans” aren’t actually vegan. How else do we explain the success of Chick-fil-A in a place like New York City, where you could close your eyes, throw a dart, and hit someone who doesn’t eat honey because of bee slavery. That level of cognitive dissonance would drive even the most brilliant among us mad. No wonder they are always so angry. They aren’t mad at us for loving Chick-fil-A, they are mad at themselves. Imagine loving Chick-fil-A and hating yourself for it. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even a “vegan.”